


can't save them all [don't give up]

by onefootonego (startingXI)



Series: ex animo [7]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, allusion to past sexual violence and violence of other kinds, vaguely historical au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-21 15:31:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18144050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startingXI/pseuds/onefootonego
Summary: they’re going to hide because running isn’t an option for maggie. her stamina isn’t there and maggie’s never been more aware of that fact than right now.her heart is pounding, her head is spinning. her hands are clenched into fists and all the terror she has spent weeks freeing herself from has returned. it consumes her quickly, this familiar dread. it seeps through her veins, into her bones, curling around her muscles until it leaves her wavering where she stands.it is alex’s hand that curls around her bicep, steadying her “easy.” she says “we’ll figure this out.” she soothes, and then she looks back to lucy “you have to go.” she says “cut through the path by the creek. you have to do this lucy.”





	1. part one

**Author's Note:**

> heed the warnings.

the sun hangs high in the sky, covered by a smear of grey clouds that stretch from one horizon to the other. there’s a vague threat of rain, a humidity that mixes in the air, felt with every breath. the temperature is not exactly kind. for this time of year, there have already been days far hotter, far more unyielding. which leaves today something of a relief, a break from the unseasonably warm streak that seems to have just closed. the promise of shade, of rain, of a reprieve from the staggering heat, it’s drawn maggie and lucy out of the manor house. they are in the stables, not preparing for a ride, but helping alex remove the last of echo’s tack and place it on a shelf. she’s arrived not ten minutes prior, no haste to her entrance, just a warm smile and a sugar cube for polo and scrooge each. echo pays them no mind, nudging at alex as she unbuckles the last of his bridle and slips it off, over his ears “you’re a good boy, aren’t you.” alex says, reaching up to scratch lightly at a spot just behind echo’s ears. 

he shakes his head and presses into her, a response of sorts that makes alex laugh “you know you are.” she says, then slipping the halter over with practised ease “can i set him up outside?” she asks “he could use some fresh air.” 

lucy nods “polo and scrooge are only inside because they’re babies about the rain,” she says “and if we’re going to be out i don’t want to have to worry about making sure they get back inside.” 

between them, maggie stands, and she considers how _different_ these two are compared to the world they live in. lucy, for her own reasons, places responsibility on herself, and more recently maggie, in the care of polo and scrooge. maggie enjoys the routine of it all, of waking up with something to do, with a goal. beyond that, there is a pleasure derived from learning. where learning and being taught are not traumatic experiences, but rather softer moments shared with lucy when the sky is still a dusty pink. lucy moves through her world with total control, a complete confidence in herself that maggie aspires for. there’s a respect she gives to the people in the employ of her house that maggie has not often borne witness to in other estates. there was always a stark and enforced divide between stations. here, the lines are far more blurred. this corner of the world seems to revel in its shades of grey. 

then there’s alex. and it’s become clear, really, for maggie, that alex quite simply doesn’t give a damn. maggie supposes that’s the easiest way to describe her. fearless may be another word if half the stories alex tells are true. which, judging by the fond eyerolls from lucy that often accompany such tales, maggie finds herself inclined to believe. within the confines of the lane estate, maggie knows her perspective is skewed. both lucy and maggie also play parts within an echelon of society maggie has never found herself in. it’s a sect where the constraints on women are often far tighter than in those other, less money induced, parts of society. while both may protest, maggie knows that upon occasion, they both have to play within the predefined rules. something lucy at least is very vocal about not taking any great pleasure in. although maggie suspects that alex holds much the same opinion as lucy when it comes to formal attire and playing nicely with those in the same scope as maxwell lord. 

maggie shudders. weeks have passed since his abrupt arrival at the lane estate and on in regard to the murder charges levelled against her, all seems to have fallen quiet. it seemed then, as it seems now, wholly impossible to maggie that the reality of the situation she finds herself in, is real. a world where cruelty aimed at her has ceased, and in its place she’s been given something of a chance at life, at recovering, at not succumbing to illness or injury, or a far worse fate. only recently has maggie truly started to believe that what she has now, could last. 

not forever, she can’t imagine lucy wanting to keep housing her and feeding her and indulging her like this. maggie doesn’t know where she would go, there was likely no home to speak of. which leaves the rest of the world. an unsteady world where her station would likely be lower than those who work at the lane estate. 

maggie tries not to think about that moment too much. the moment where she must leave all that she has come to call familiar and friendly. it’s painful in a way she never expected. far too often to see a house fading into the background was a relief, a freedom from some cruelty. the lane estate is nothing like that. in fact, there is only one who maggie finds herself carrying any unease around – the master huntsman. the man who dragged her from the forest, convinced she was a poacher. the man who informed on her location to those who would seek her out. maggie avoids him where she can, but in those moments where their paths cross, he leers and looks down on her. he reminds her of where she’s from, of what her past would define her as to most. 

a finger brushes along the curl of her elbow and she starts lightly, snapping back to the present, to the stables. lucy is looking at her, alex has busied herself with untangling a patch of echo’s mane, giving lucy time to coax maggie out of her head without spooking her to any tremendous degree. her fingers are soft along maggie’s skin and she relaxes almost at once. maggie knows where she is, she knows who she’s with. she knows she’s safe. 

“sorry.” she says “got lost in my head.” 

“don’t apologise.” lucy and alex say at the same time. 

maggie can’t help but smile at that “if you say so.” she nods, focusing her gaze on echo. 

he has eyes only for alex, snuffling at a pocket wherein treats must lurk. 

“we do,” alex says, then to echo “you’re not getting any of those yet.” she chastises, her fingertips scrabbling playfully against his muzzle “greedy boy.” 

echo snorts and the three of them laugh at his indignance. 

“shall we?” alex offers, nodding towards the open stable doors.

moving out into the air, maggie shivers against the breeze. she’s not cold particularly, just, unprepared for the wind. beside her, alex enquires “which field do you want him in?” 

lucy ponders, shrugs “we’ll go past the big one on our way to the lookout. we can drop him in there.” 

the lookout is a place maggie has ridden to before with scrooge. it’s a point that provides stunning views of the surroundings that took maggie’s breath away the first time lucy took her there. the track itself that winds it's way uphill is long and winding rather than particularly difficult. all the same, the fact that today the three of them are embarking on a walk to that same point leaves maggie with a sense of victory. every day her stamina is improving, as is the rest of her in some way or another – but today feels like a tangible sign of progress. an achievement. 

“so,” alex says as they’ve headed away from the stables and along a dirt track “i’ve been thinking.” 

“about anything in particular?” lucy offers. 

“as it happens,” alex says “yes.” maggie laughs, lucy rolls her eyes and they both wait for alex to continue “if you’re both feeling up to it, you should come to mine one evening. for dinner. kara would love to see you lucy, and maggie i’m sure you can use with the change of scenery.” 

the prospect of going somewhere else, of likely meeting a barrage of new people does not daunt maggie nearly as much as it would have weeks ago. in fact, so often has alex spoken about kara, that she’s curious about the younger danvers. curious to meet her just as much as kara wants to meet her apparently. 

“when were you thinking?” lucy offers. 

“literally any time.” alex says “my mother is in the city on court business.” she says “don’t ask me what.” 

“you really should know.” lucy points out “that will all be your responsibility one day.” 

alex snorts “please. if you honestly think i’m ever going take to the city and sit in a room full of blustery old men dictating the terms that everyone else is allowed to exist, you have lost your mind.” 

“are you going to abandon kara to it?” lucy counters. 

“oh please,” alex says “like kara wouldn’t enjoy sitting there and tearing them apart just as you would.” 

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” lucy feigns confusion. 

“of course, you don’t.” alex laughs as they round a bend and a row of fenced in paddocks become visible “you’re just waiting to step into the courts.”

“emphasis on waiting.” lucy says, stepping forward and undoing a latch on the gate to the nearest one and following its trajectory inside, allowing alex and echo to follow. 

he prances, eagerly and alex takes only a moment to undo the lead rope from his halter. maggie watches as echo takes off into the field at pace “you’d think we hadn’t just ridden over here.” alex comments dryly, as the three of them step back out onto the dirt track and lucy secures the fence. 

“that’s like scrooge though,” maggie says “lucy and i can go out for a few hours and as soon as she gets back in, she’s looking at you like she wants to go out again.” 

“insatiable is the word both of you are looking for.” lucy chimes in “lucky for me, polo is inherently lazy.” 

“except when there’s food involved.” maggie points out. 

the track they’re following forks ahead. the left path curves along with the row of fields and disappears around a bend. the right, however, and the one they’ll be following today, dips down into a small valley before curving and bending into an incline of no substantial challenge. this right-ward path is familiar, as is the creek that bubbles happily parallel with it. descending into the valley it’s impossible not to suddenly feel a world away from the manor and the business of the estate. different too is it from the first time maggie stumbled her way through the creeping woods on the right of the path, to the other side of the creek. for one, the sun is high in the sky, and for another, she’s not terrified. 

it’s a strange feeling, maggie decides, to simply listen as alex and lucy’s banter carries on, yet not feel out of place. every so often they drag her into the conversation and include her. yet maggie is just as content to simply walk alongside them and enjoy their company and their laughter. they’re from different worlds, but never have they intentionally made maggie feel that way. more often than not there’s a quick and offhand explanation about a person, place or event, and maggie knows they’re for her sake. they don’t feel patronising, they make maggie feel as if she’s being caught up to speed on all the drama she’s missed. 

“when it gets unbearably hot again,” alex says, as they ascend “we should go swimming.” she continues, then to maggie “if we veer off this track ahead there’s an amazing swimming hole. it’s pretty hidden and hard to get to so not many others will venture off the path to get to it. makes it the perfect place for a summer day.” 

maggie nods, biting her lip and then “i don’t know how to swim.” she admits. 

that particular skill was never one that had been taught to her. she braces for laughter or teasing, but instead the response from her friends is “all the more reason for us to go one day,” lucy says “we can teach you. if you want.” 

“i’ll drag kara along, as well,” alex says “i’ve been trying to get her to learn for years. maybe if she knows you’re learning as well, she’ll be less nervous about it.” 

maggie nod’s and she’s about to say something when lucy stops in her tracks. it takes all of a second for maggie to become aware that something has changed, that something has caught lucy’s attention and the chances are it’s not a fox or a pretty bird. lucy’s spine has gone ramrod straight, her shoulders thrown back. it is the tension that catches alex’s attention and then maggies. alex steps back towards lucy, her hand sliding to the small of lucy’s back “what is it?” she asks. 

lucy swallows hard and maggie feels her pulse ratcheting as unease spreads between them, insidious and paralysing. 

“there.” lucy says, nodding off the track, to their left. 

the view itself is one maggie has admired before. rolling hills and sprawling countryside. tiny pinpricks that are barns or sheds or small homes. towards that horizon, there is blue sky and patches of sunlight. except, it is not any of those sights that has caught lucy’s attention. 

no. 

it takes no time at all for maggie to catch what has lucy so stiff. 

horses. four of them with dark clothed riders moving across an open field at pace. maggie can’t initially place what is so off-putting about the sight. from a distance, she and lucy were able to watch alex’s arrival and no sense of unease was present there. what she remembers, however, as alex takes a step forward to gain a better view, is a fact lucy mentioned on their first trip to the lookout. at the time it had been nothing but a passing point of interest. now, however, the fact that all the land maggie sees, sprawling for miles, is, in fact, part of the lane estate, means that there is no reason for four men to be cutting directly across it all. 

“shit.” alex murmurs “that’s whiskey collins.” her voice darkens as she says the name and maggie doesn’t have to ask to know that he is bad news. 

“are they coming this way, you think?” lucy asks as if there can be any other explanation. 

“where else would they be headed?” alex counters “they’re not stupid enough to ransack your place while your dad is home. whiskey is evil, but he’s not dumb.” 

maggie doesn’t want to be scared. she doesn’t want to fear the man called whiskey collins, or the men he rides with. however even from this distance, it’s easy to see the way their heads turn and look up towards them, and one man points directly at where they stand. that action, above anything else, confirms the rising suspicions – they’re in danger. how much danger, maggie can’t assume, but her hands are shaking and her breath is shortening and a familiar fear is spreading through her body. 

“there’s only one reason they’d come here,” lucy says “knowing the general is home.” 

they all know what that reason is, none more so than maggie herself. they’re coming for her. they’re coming for her because whatever bounty that can be collected for her retrieval must be a considerable sum. her presence is putting alex and lucy in great danger, maggie realises this. 

“you two need to go.” she says “run, get out of here. get safe.” 

alex looks at her quickly “not happening.” she says 

“you two don’t need to be caught up in this.” maggie pleads, voice wavering. 

“need and want are two different things.” alex says “we’re not leaving you. or,” she pauses “i’m not.” alex looks at lucy “you need to go back to the house and get your dad. get him. get anyone.” 

“i’m not leaving you.” lucy says “we have better odds-“

“there four of them, armed on horseback.” alex says “the odds are damned. the only chance we have is if you get your dad out here, maggie and i will hide.” 

they’re going to hide because running isn’t an option for maggie. her stamina isn’t there and maggie’s never been more aware of that fact than right now. her heart is pounding, her head is spinning. her hands are clenched into fists and all the terror she has spent weeks freeing herself from has returned. it consumes her quickly, this familiar dread. it seeps through her veins, into her bones, curling around her muscles until it leaves her wavering where she stands. it is alex’s hand that curls around her bicep, steadying her “easy.” she says “we’ll figure this out.” she soothes, and then she looks back to lucy “you have to go.” she says “cut through the path by the creek. you have to do this lucy.” 

there’s a moment where lucy is staring at alex and alex is staring at maggie and some silent conversation is taking place between them. maggie can feel lucy’s protest at the same time that she lets out a long sigh and runs a hand through her hair “fine.” she says “fine. i hate this. but fine.” she glances from maggie to alex and back again “be safe.” she pleads. 

“we will.” alex lies. 

in the half-second that follows alex’s words lucy remains rooted to the spot. she’s studying alex, looking as if she’s about to say more or do something else. whatever it is, alex must understand because when she speaks next, her tone is softer “go, luce,” she says “we’ll be okay.” 

maggie is not sure that’s the case. not when four men on horseback have disappeared out of sight and are no doubt closing in on them with every second that they stand here. it seems that a small eternity passes before lucy nods once, resolutely and then turns, bounding down the edge of the track and towards the creek with haste. 

watching her go, maggie is relieved that at least she’ll be safe.

“she’ll get the general.” alex says “he’ll get here. it’ll be okay.” 

maggie is not sure who alex is speaking to in that moment, to whom those words are meant to comfort. they fall short for maggie, who is so enrapt in her own fear that she barely hears alex. all she can think is “you need to go, alex.” she says “you need to go. this, it’s not worth it.” 

“you are worth it.” alex counters. 

“they’ll kill you.” maggie pleads, in her haze not understanding why alex is so resolute in staying, in defending her like this. the far easier option would be to leave, to leave maggie to her fate. 

“they can try.” alex grits, and from seemingly nowhere, she produces three throwing knives. 

maggie’s eyes go wide “what –“ 

“i learned a long time ago to be prepared.” alex says as a means of explanation, before handing one of the knives to maggie. 

it feels cool in her hand, solid and sharp. it won’t be much against men who probably have guns, but it can help them make a stand, maggie supposes. although in the next beat, it’s clear that alex isn’t about to make a stand here. instead, she’s tugging at maggie and pulling her towards the left side of the track, opposite to where lucy took off running. this side is significantly less steep than the other, and there are fewer trees for cover. it won’t do much as a place to hide but it takes a second glance for maggie to understand that this is the quickest path to echo. 

echo who could bear both of them away to safety. 

they’re running. or, maggie feels like she’s half stumbling, half being dragged across the open expanse. her feet fumble underneath her, but alex’s grip on her arm doesn’t leave, only changes. her fingers tangle with maggie’s, gripping her tighter. it’s been seconds and already, maggie’s lungs are screaming, her legs are shaking. echo seems a mile away. maggie grasps at something deep inside her, a wild instinct to survive and it’s all she can do to keep upright and keep running. she thinks that maybe, just maybe, she will have enough to get the distance. she thinks. she hopes. 

she falls. 

she splays out into the grass and dirt with a heavy thud and maggie lets out a cry. her body takes the hit heard and she can feel alex being tugged back. she expects alex to let go and keep running. she begs alex, through tears, to do just that “go.” she says and the thundering of hooves is making the ground shake “alex, go. please.” 

“no.” alex says, wrapping her arms and maggie and hauling her upright, one arm snaked around her waist “i’m not leaving you, okay? that’s not how this goes.” 

standing like this, they’re facing the men barrelling towards them. maggie is shaking with fear, but alex stands steady. she stands strong and seemingly unphased. maggie can hear the rhythm of alex’s breathing slow. it’s forced, the way she calms and centres herself. it leaves maggie wondering what attack alex is bracing for when the arm that is not wrapped around maggie’s waist, holding her close, holding her upright, raises. in her hand is one of the blades, one of the throwing knives. it glints in the sun and maggie watches, breath caught in her chest. the men are perhaps not close enough yet because alex waits. she waits and waits and the stillness in her body is something maggie doesn’t understand. 

the four men fan out in front of them. all dressed in dark clothes, all armed to the teeth, all thundering towards them, fearlessly. the closer they get the more maggie realises that she recognises two of them, and maybe a third. memories flash. terrible memories of pain and harsh laughter. there’s the crack of a whip in her mind, a searing pain down her back. they took pleasure in watching her bleed, maggie remembers. she whimpers, whimpers in fear even as alex holds her closer because, 

no. no. no. god. she can’t. 

she can’t. she can’t go back to that. even if it is certain death that is awaiting her, the fate these men have in store between now and that point is undoubtedly already planned to be long, painful and degrading. she’s wheezing, paralysed do to anything but watch the men get closer and closer and – 

one of them yelps and the sudden jerk on his horses reigns cause the horse to veer and buck. it takes maggie a long moment to understand what has just happened, and in that time, the second of alex’s three knives has buried itself in the neck of a second rider. this one takes the hit with more grace in the sense that he simply keels over, feet still caught in the stirrups, dragging his horse sideways and down with him. a hand has curled around his neck, but it’s too late. 

two left. 

except they’re closer now, hands curling around the grips of flintlocks and drawing them. even as alex slips the last of her blades from maggie’s hand, they both go still. alex’s grip tightens imperceptibly around maggie, talking a half step back “ah, ah” one of the men says, slipping out of his saddle “none of that now.” he speaks smoothly, confidently and his eyes are fixed on maggie, leering darkly “you’ve been a tricky one to pin down.” he says “lingering close to the general, but,” he looks around “i don’t see him out here.” the mans gaze slides to alex “and you,” he says “always sticking your nose in places it don’t belong.” 

“you’re a fool with a death wish collins.” alex says, her voice unwavering and dark “if you really want to end up like your friend over there, you can just ask.” she nods to the dead man “or you can take another step closer.” 

“or what?” collins sneers, as the second, uninjured rider steps down, his pistol levelled at the pair “you really think you can throw that little knife before he pulls the trigger?” collin’s head jerks to the man next to him “i don’t think you’re that quick.” he says, every part of him oozing confidence “so here’s how this can go,” he says “you give us the slut and we let you go more or less unharmed.” 

alex snorts “sure.” she says “i’ll believe a man like you.” 

“or,” collins takes another step forward “we can kill you and take the slut anyway.” 

maggie flinches. alex needs to let her go. alex needs to accept that the odds are against them and – “i’m sorry,” alex murmurs, and for a moment maggie wonders if alex is finally seeing sense, and then “trust me.” she adds, although the words mean nothing to maggie until alex is bringing the blade of her knife to the soft skin of maggie’s neck. 

the contact jolts maggie, even if isn’t particularly rough, and maggie knows that must be deliberate. all she can think about is the fact that alex is holding a blade to her throat for some unimaginable reason. maggie fails to understand is how this move will prove to help the situation at all, all she can think about is the hint of cool metal against her neck. her mind races with a thousand possibilities until alex speaks, 

“rumour i heard is that the bounty is for her alive,” she says. 

the men still, and collins laughs “oh i don’t think you have it in you, to slit her pretty throat.” 

“want to find out?” alex grits “want to risk all that gold? she’s worth nothing to you as a dead woman.” 

oh. 

maggie pieces things together, understands that alex is stalling, trying to give lucy and the general a chance to get here and even the odds. it’s a desperate hope, this maggie understands, but for a second she clings to it. she clings to it because the men before them pause, collins seems to be considering his options. this tactic, mad as it is, may be working. the thought does little to unstick maggie’s muscles from themselves or calm her terrified breathing, but her head clears for a fraction of a second. for what happens in the next moment changes everything. 

there’s a sickening crack of metal against flesh and behind maggie, alex drops like a stone in a well. it leaves maggie wavering on her feet, reaching for balance as the first man alex knifed, grabs her by the hair. she can hear his ragged panting, can feel his shirt wet with blood, but he hisses triumphantly in her ear as he steps over alex’s unconscious form “gotcha.” 

maggie twists violently, wildly, as if she has the strength to break free. in her wild turning, she catches a glimpse of alex, on the floor, in a heap. she is unmoving, facedown in the dirt. it spikes fear through maggies heart, not for herself, no, but for alex. that alex may be dead or dying. it spurs maggie on in her desperate and nearly futile bid for freedom. all it earns her is a violent wrenching backwards of her head that sends pain spiking down her neck and whimper escaping into the air. 

“there we go.” the man called collins says, stepping forward into her space “we may even leave your friend alone now, the wolves will come for her anyway. they can smell the blood. “

maggie knows this man is trying to scare her. not that it matters because she’s terrified already. he steps further into her space, his hand coming to her cheek “you’re worth a pretty penny.” he says “alive, as your friend pointed out. but they have plans for you.” he continues “i’m sure you can’t wait to find out about them.” 

she can.

oh, maggie can. 

she wants nothing more than to never find out what is fated for her. except with alex unconscious and lucy nowhere to be seen, maggie knows the chances of that happening are slim to none. it drains her, the realisation that after the month or so here, at the lane estate, her fate is still the same as it was in those woods. death. dying. she doesn’t want to accept it, but the reality is she doesn’t have a choice as her wrists are tied together with rough rope “now,” collins says “i’d be all for just dragging you behind the horses.” he says “but we’re in a little bit of a hurry. so, you’ll get the pleasure of riding with me.” 

his eyes shine and maggie has to fight from shaking her head. instead, she closes her eyes, letting her mind drift to another place as his hands are rough on her and she’s hoisted up onto the saddle. maggie thinks of another time, away from all this. 

**


	2. part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> at this moment all alex can think about, is maggie. maggie, and the throbbing in her skull that feels as if someone took a hammer to her head. reaching up gingerly, alex pokes at the area. it certainly isn’t comfortable, that much is for certain, and her fingertips come away sticky and red with blood. great. fine. alex forces out a deep breath and tries to think of a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heed the warnings.

the first thing alex becomes aware of is the aching in her skull. it starts somewhere at the back of her head and with each pulsating throb the pain ratchets higher. it leaves her feeling ill and disconnected from the rest of her body. the pounding ache consumes her attention for long, long minutes as slowly, she comes to. behind the throbbing pain, the rest of her body seems in working order beyond a few bruises. she wiggles her fingers, her toes and then with great effort rolls herself onto her back. her arms sprawl out at either side of her and alex forces deep breaths in and out with her eyes squeezed shut tight against the offence of the sun. her head _fucking_ hurts. that’s the first several coherent thoughts alex has before the rest of the morning slams into her mind reducing alex to a gasp and a jolt, to sit upright, hands curling in the dirt to support herself.

maggie. 

“shit.” alex pants, forcing her eyes open and blinking quickly against the sun “shit. fuck.” she breathes, fear dropping straight to the pit of her stomach. 

all her promises to protect maggie and, alex looks around her immediate surroundings. there’s a dead man. she remembers killing him. alex remembers the shine of her knife in the sun before it buried itself in the soft flesh of his neck. she wonders if she should feel more remorse, and maybe later she will. at this moment all alex can think about, is maggie. maggie, and the throbbing in her skull that feels as if someone took a hammer to her head. reaching up gingerly, alex pokes at the area. it certainly isn’t comfortable, that much is for certain, and her fingertips come away sticky and red with blood. great. fine. alex forces out a deep breath and tries to think of a plan. 

they took maggie. fucking whiskey collins and his merry fucking band. alex nearly lets herself flop back down on the ground, and if this were not so utterly time sensitive she may indeed lay and commiserate her failure. focusing instead on maggie. on the way, she could feel maggie’s terror and the way she could feel maggie’s whole being trembling with each step closer collins took. alex thinks about maggie’s fear. she thinks about how much maggie has suffered already and alex will be damned if she lets maggie suffer like that again. the train of thought ignites an anger in alex and with that spark, it sets loose the rage alex usually keeps so well under control. the intensity of it dulls her aching head and alex grabs her knife from the dirt before hauling herself to her feet. 

she moves over to the dead man and removes her second blade from his neck. she watches the blood ooze out from the wound for a beat before wiping the bloodied blade on the white of the mans shirt. to an outsider, the move may seem callous, cold and calculating even. for alex, she doesn’t care. she slips her knives back into their sheaths and looks down at the pathetic excuse for a man. he has a flintlock at his hip and alex slips that out from the holster. she takes the dagger as well, frowning when she sees the rusted and chipped blade. hardly a deadly weapon but let her get close enough and she’d slit collins throat from ear to ear with it all the same.

alex stands. she stands and watches the world spin around her for a few dizzying seconds, unsure if she is going to pass out again or not. when the world finally steadies, alex lets out a breath and raises an eyebrow, 

the deadmans horse is nearby, nibbling on some grass. alex debates for only a moment. she could take this horse, or she could run to echo and lose even more valuable time. it’s time she doesn’t have to waste. with no sign of lucy or the general, alex knows she’s about the mount a solo rescue mission. she recognises the odds are stacked against her, and she doesn’t care. moving slowly, relaxing her posture and speaking with a softness she definitely does not feel, alex walks towards the deadmans horse. she reaches into a pocket and pulls out two sugar cubes, laying them out on the flat of her bad. 

the horse seems nervous, albeit interested. alex stills, standing, aware of her pounding head and the precious seconds she’s losing by waiting for this horse to come to her. she forces herself to remain still, and watches the horse amble with one hesitant step after the next until the sugar cubes are taken from alex’s hand. in turn, alex takes the reigns and with practiced ease, puts one foot in the stirrups and hoists herself up and over. her head spins a little as she settles in the foreign saddle, but at least from this vantage point, alex finds herself with a better view of her surroundings. a view that includes a dust trail. alex zeros in on it. she watches it, knowing nearly at once that it’s not a dust cloud drawn up by a gust of wind. it’s a trail. with one last glance towards the track that lucy and her father would emerge from, alex nudges the horse into motion. 

the horse moves easily, and alex is appreciative of that fact. her gaze is still caught on the track, wishing and hoping that she would see the emergence of at least general lane, if not lucy as well. she can’t imagine lucy willingly staying behind at a time like this, not when she knows that maggie and alex are still out here. except for all of alex’s hoping, as she urges the horse into a trot and then a canter, she sees no one. it’s disheartening, but her concept of time is blurred at the moment. she has no idea how long she was unconscious for, or how long it would take lucy to run back, find her father, explain and then get back out. although she is certain that lucy would approach the whole scenario with no small degree of haste, alex tries not to wonder if something has happened to lucy. if she too was ambushed, pistol-whipped and left for a death by wolves. 

it’s easy enough coming down off the slope and onto level ground, to urge the horse into a gallop. alex doesn’t know this horses capabilities and she wants to be kind, but moreso than that, she wants to get to maggie. she wants to remove her from the clutches of these men before they can do her any more harm. so alex pushes on, scanning the track in front of her, looking for any signs, any clues but in the end, chasing dust. if dust is all she has to go on, so be it. alex presses forward. she tries not to think of maggie pressed against her, the way her body froze when alex brought the knife to her throat. a desperate move done only to buy time, now alex is left wondering if she’ll get the chance to explain that to maggie. 

she hopes so. 

something catches alex’s attention behind her, something outside of her own pains, her own thoughts and concentration the road ahead. at first, she hears the thundering of hooves and for half a second she assumes that she somehow got ahead of whiskey collins and his gang. except for one glance over her shoulder makes alex’s heart soar. it’s not whiskey or any of his cronies. no. it’s the general, and from the looks of it, lucy too. the general is armed, that much is clear with pistols at his hips and a sheathed sword present as well. lucy too has grabbed some form of weaponry, her flintlocks, alex assumes. alex, seeing them in their pursuit slows the horse down so they can see that it’s her atop the mount, an ally. 

the move works because the general and lucy catch up soon enough. the three of them are left breathless for a moment before alex says “they took her.” she says, looking directly at lucy “they took her. they hit me with something.” she looks forward, towards the dust cloud “i’ve been following that.” 

the general says nothing, just urging his horse, a great behemoth of a beast bigger than polo, named jack, onwards. he quickly takes the front position, alex and maggie on either side, riding hard, riding fast. alex knows that lucy has questions, but right now is not the time for them. it’s hardly the time for anything except playing catch up to those who have an unknown lead on them. amidst the anger in alex’s gut, there’s a worry, there’s fear. she feels responsible for this situation, for not being able to do enough to protect maggie, to keep her from getting taken. as they press on at frightening speed, alex runs through the events that she can remember over and over again. sending lucy for help, running with maggie, pulling maggie to her feet after she fell, keeping maggie close, alex runs through every moment. she can’t deny her options were limited. she was stuck in the worst situation. 

the general is pulling away, his horse trained and used to such stretches of endurance. alex is prepared to let him and lucy follow on, needing to slow the pace in order to give her horse a break. except lucy slows with her. she lets her father steam ahead in favour of dropping to a pace somewhere between a canter and a trot. it’s slow enough to let lucy look across at alex and notice the blood matting the back of her head “they attacked you.” she says. 

alex nods “hit me with something. a pistol i presume.” she looks down, away as she speaks again “i didn’t see the third man swing around. i thought he was down, i hit him with a knife in the chest.” she swallows hard “they knocked me out. took maggie”

“and the horse.” 

“i killed one of them.” alex says “this was his horse.” 

if the admission of her violence startles lucy, she betrays nothing across her face “this isn’t your fault.” she says instead, and alex isn’t surprised that’s what lucy says. 

long ago she stopped trying to understand how it felt like lucy could read her mind and pinpoint exactly what alex was feeling and why. alex just accepted it now as a fact, that trying to hide anything from lucy was, essentially useless. even on horseback in pursuit of their kidnapped friend, lucy was still able to read alex’s body language and the silence between her words to – 

“there.” lucy says, nodding ahead to where three horses are visible ahead of jack and the general. 

seeing them again reignites the anger inside alex, the deep and roiling rage that had ebbed away upon the arrival of lucy and the general. sparked anew, she spurs her horse into a gallop once again, knowing her poor mount was tired, but needing to draw this strength out of him. with her gaze focused on the general, she’s able to see him pull out a pistol whilst still at full pelt. alex’s heart catches in her chest as he raises it because she can’t see where maggie is and what if he hits her instead? it’s a fear alex does not have time to recognise and one that is overwhelmed almost instantly by her anger. alex focuses on that instead, because it feels good to be angry. not just in that it pushes away her pain, but also in the fact that it brings the world around her into razor sharp, crystal clear focus. they are nearly atop of the kidnappers when a shot rings out. in a normal circumstance, that would make alex jump, but now she only tracks the men in front and watches as ones back spasms and his horse veers off the road, pitching the man into a patch of thick brush. 

alex considers slowing, but doesn’t, pushing on ahead, past the man. from a glance he’s unmoving, having landed awkwardly, sideways and then some. there’s a growing stain of red spreading across his chest and alex doesn’t question the grim satisfaction she feels at the sight. instead, she urges her horse on, aware that it is lucy who slows behind her. whether it’s to check if the man is alive or to keep an eye on him so he can’t escape, alex doesn’t know. her tunnel vision doesn’t give her the capacity to turn around, instead her gaze is focused on the general who has levelled his pistol again, letting loose a shot that misses, but in burying itself in the trunk of a tree, spooks the nearest horse. it is not the one bearing whiskey collins, and as the rider is chucked into the dirt road, almost at the feet of a thundering jack, alex knows where maggie must be. process of elimination tells her that there is only one option. except it’s clear that collins isn’t going to slow, and the general has holstered his gun, clearly unwilling to risk the shot. 

the question now becomes how can they possibly get maggie back safely? 

it’s not one that alex’s has an answer to, instead watching as the general urges jack forward and forward again. collins, for all his weapons, is stuck needing to hold on to maggie with one arm, and control the reigns with his other hand. it leaves him vulnerable as the general levels with collins. alex’s stomach is in her throat as she watches general pulling out a small dagger. the moment collins sees it becomes clear because he veer wildly to the right in an effort to escape the range of the blade. except in this, he makes a crucial mistake. the general is able to follow and with singular slicing motion, the blade is buried in the mans back to the hilt. the cry that escapes collins is ugly and pained and alex thinks this could be it, that he will slow his horse and surrender. except, 

well, 

what happens next leaves alex horrified. collins drops his reigns and using two hands and brute strength, he dumps maggie off the horse, half shoving her, half throwing her. alex watches, horrified as maggie hits the dirt track, hard, and doesn’t move. the impact looked terrible and alex wishes she was on echo, who she could pull into a hasty stop without any fear of being catapulted over his head. with this unfamiliar steed, alex forces herself past maggie, aware that the general is slowing, is turning jake around easily and heading back to where maggie was dumped. 

this leaves alex with one target. a still fleeing whiskey collins. it’s a chance she didn’t think she would have, and yet here she is, the last one in pursuit. the deadman's pistol hangs at her hip and alex pulls it out, familiarising herself with the cool wood of the grip and the curved metal of the trigger. she takes a breath and levels it at the feeling man. he’s close enough that be design, he’s a large target. even for the unreliable nature of these weapons, alex is sure she can hit collins. if not, she knows she has no qualms with tackling him off his horse, seeing how he likes being dumped in the dirt. she takes a breath, closing one eye and focusing her gaze down the length of the pistols barrel. on her next exhalation, she pulls the trigger. 

the shot erupts from the gun and in milliseconds, the bullet is buried in its target. he lets out a second pained cry and slumps forward. alex feels a vicious twist of satisfaction at hitting her mark. his horse slows on instinct, exhausted and breathing hard as it slows from a gallop, right down to a walk. as alex pulls level with the man, she sees that he is not yet dead. he is glaring at her with beady, black eyes and reaching with one shaking hand, for his weapon. 

“don’t think about it.” alex says. 

“fuck you.” the man spits, “they’ll just send more of us. the whore will never be safe.” 

alex looks at the man with a raised eyebrow and then looks back to where maggie had fallen. she’s sitting upright in the dirt and it looks like the general is kneeling in front of her. he’s not touching her, alex’s isn’t sure if he’s even saying anything but “i dunno,” alex says “she looks pretty safe to me.” 

“you think you can protect her forever? the people who are after her have pockets deeper than yours.” 

“so what don’t you tell me,” alex says dangerously “why don’t you tell me who’s after her and i can go have a chat to them. like the one we’re having now.” she gestures between them with her pistol. 

collins keeps his mouth shut. 

“oh come on,” alex goads “you think whoever hired you for this is going to give a damn about you? you think he’s going to protect you from the general?” she nods down towards where lucy has now joined her father and maggie “he’s not. he’s going to leave you to suffer your punishment. and from that man,” she nods at the general again “punishment for kidnapping, oh i’m sure you know what happened to the last people who tried that.” 

alex’s words draw out the first flicker of fear in whiskey collins’ eyes. she revels in it “you’re not a stupid man, collins. i mean, a bit thick, yeah, but you’re not all that stupid. you’ve got to have some sense of self-preservation in you somewhere. you’re not taking maggie anywhere. which means no money for you. no gold. no glory. you fucked up and now the general is legally allowed to deal with you as he sees fit. you think he’ll be so nice as to make it quick? or do you think he’ll pin you to a tree with a sword through your gut until the wolves come to get you?” 

collins swallows hard and then, 

“lord.” he splutters “it was lord.” 

“maxwell lord?” alex presses. 

collins nods, glacing sideways as the general has stood and is now walking down the track straight for them “i told you who hired us,” he says “i told you.” 

“and i said nothing about leniency for you if you did.” alex says, nodding to general lane as he approaches “how is she?” alex asks. 

“shaken.” general lane says “scared. hurting.” he keeps his words short “she’ll need to be looked over,” he says, taking stock of alex “although from the looks of yourself, so will you.” 

“thanks.” alex nods “i’ll be fine.” she says “i assume you want to have some words with collins, here?” 

the general turns his attention to the shaking, bleeding, sweating man “i do.” he says. 

“then i’ll excuse myself.” alex says, turning her horse and nudging him back towards where maggie and lucy are still sat on the track, from the looks of it, maggie leaning heavily into lucy.

**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all, the response to the last chapter was amazing! i've never had so many people shouting at me in my inbox. or at least it's been a while since i've had this many people yelling at me - which, is my favourite reaction. it means i'm doing something right. thank you so much to everyone who commented and kudo-d and shouted at me. it means the world.


	3. part three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they came. 
> 
> they rescued her. 
> 
> they didn’t let her get taken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heed the warnings.

landing in the dirt seems to break maggie. the air is knocked from her chest and she finds that all she can do is lay there and take one strangled breath after the next. she presses her forehead into the dirt, she curls in on herself despite her screaming body, because all around her are the sounds of hooves and shots being fired. so deep in her own mind is maggie now, the world seeps through a haze, only fragments of detail coming to her at a time. the tang of blood in her mouth, the nearby shifting of a horse and the drop of heavy feet onto the floor. maggie stiffens. she curls in on herself because whoever dismounted, they’re big and they’re not alex, nor lucy. paralysed by her own fear, maggie feels out of control herself, murmuring softly “please don’t hurt me. don’t hurt me. i’m not fighting. just, i won’t fight.”

“no one is going to hurt you,” a new voice says from startlingly close to her and maggie jerks, as much as she can considering she’s in the fetal position on a dirt road, she shirks away because despite what this person is saying, 

she _hurts_. it makes little sense for someone, especially a male someone to be making such a promise. not when maggie has her hands tied together in front of her and she’s still in some sort of stunned shock from being thrown off a horse. there’s a price on her head still and any man from whiskey collin’s gang would no doubt be looking to cash in and – 

“maggie,” this same, patient yet unfamiliar voice says “no one is going to hurt you.” 

she can’t help but blink quickly at the use of her name. the word rolling off the strangers tongue with a lightness, a softness that did not fit with the harsh natures of her kidnappers. not that they knew her name. she remembers flinching with each brash and unforgiving use of the word _whore_ as a title. as if that was all she was to that. although, maggie knows that’s hardly an ‘as if’ and more of a certain fact. to be faced now with someone saying her name so gently, so carefully, maggie is thrown. that of all things, she had not expected. such a detail inspires maggie to take a breath and open her eyes. through a tangle of hair across her face, maggie can see a figure, kneeling merely feet from her. they exist in stark contrast to the foliage behind, trees just beginning to bud and bloom. if trees can bloom, maggie’s not wholly sure, but that doesn’t seem important. she drags her focus back to figure, the man, the – 

oh. 

she realises quickly who it must be kneeling before her. 

the general. general lane. he’s not what maggie pictured. dressed down, obviously caught off guard, he looks like he could be any one of a hundred other men maggie has ever seen passing in the streets. yet there is a confidence about him, an air of self-assuredness that betrays his position. he holds himself with a stiffness that comes from years of practice and yet maggie finds herself unnerved, but not scared. she looks at him again and where she expects steel in his eyes, there is none. he looks at her gently, he keeps his space. yet through it all there is obvious concern in his eyes, his face. 

“i-“ she starts “general, sir” she swallows hard, unsure what to say or how to say whatever it is that she might try and speak. maggie knows a thanks is in order, but the words are stuck on her tongue, caught behind the wash of emotions currently still welling up inside maggie. 

the man shakes his head “sam.” he says “call me sam.” 

maggie blinks again, unable to process that “did, did lucy get you?” she asks, for that’s how this must have happened. 

he nods once “she did. came tearing into the house in a panic i haven’t seen from her in a long time.” he says “we came as quick as we could.” and then “she’s just down the road there.” he points to where lucy is now moving up the road at a steady pace towards them.

maggie lets her gaze drift to lucy, who’s watching her, nudging her horse into a trot so as to cover the space between them with more haste. the sight is a relief. the sight calms some wild part of maggie that felt untethered, even in the presence of someone who can be considered safe. lucy, with her flintlocks at her hips and windswept hair, keeps her gaze fixed on maggie the closer she gets. her attention is a comfort and maggie exhales, and lays her head back down, she aches. she aches through her whole body, and her heart is racing still. her skin burns where collins held her too tight, too close. there are tracks of tears down her face, tears that broken when collins started whispering in her ear, keeping her trapped in place telling her of all the horrors yet to come. the menacing glee in his voice had been impossible to ignore, impossible to escape. even now, with her freedom, maggie still feels perilously close to a breakdown. she feels on edge, fragile in a way she hasn’t in weeks. the only thing holding chest-wracking sobs at bay is the fact that, 

they came. 

they rescued her. 

they didn’t let her get taken. 

they – 

alex. maggie tries to sit up but her hands are bound in front of her and she feels disconnected with the rest of herself “alex.” she says “they hurt alex. the hit her. i think.” she’s speaking quick, worry and fear mixing with her words. 

“steady.” sam says “alex is here. well.” he indicates further up the road where it looks like she has a pistol level with collins. for a beat, it looks as if he’s going to say something else, but lucy’s arrival stops that train of thought as she all but jumps off polo. 

“maggie.” she breathes, crossing the space and stilling near maggie’s side. 

the way she says maggie’s name, the way she breathes it with such a sigh of relief, it breaks something in maggie. tears once again well and she can’t fight the “lucy.” she chokes, noticing sam stand, noticing him move away with a purpose. 

part of her wants to watch, but part of her is focused on lucy. on the way lucy is kneeling in the soft grass of the verge “maggie,” she says “you’re okay.” she promises “can i get those ropes off you?” her fingers brush feather-light over the place where the rope is biting into maggies skin. 

maggie nods. she swallows hard and tries to find words, but all she has left right now are tears. closing her eyes, she can feel lucy working at the knots with nimble fingers and the freedom that comes, the rush of blood to her hands is nothing short of a relief. it is instinct to roll her wrists, to work the feeling back into them, but she feels untethered. she feels shaken and lost and “can i touch you?” lucy is asking. 

maggie nods. she needs the touch, she needs lucy’s hands tangling with her own because lucy is solid and present and “do you want to try and sit up?” she murmurs “the ground can’t be doing you any favours.” 

“i hurt.” maggie says, trying not to let it dissolve into a whimper, but her emotions are beyond her control at this point. 

“okay.” lucy soothes, one hand running along maggie’s shoulder, dipping down her back and slowly, almost effortlessly, guiding her into a seated position. 

like this, they’re nearly face-to-face and maggie keens forward, into lucy. it’s a move she makes with no hesitation because lucy is safe. that, beyond all else, maggie knows to be true. even when lucy’s finger comes to her neck, tracing the edge of a cut there, a straight, thin slice into her neck, maggie doesn’t shirk back. she’s not afraid. she feels lucy’s arms wrap around her, coaxing her to let it out, to let herself feel. 

she cries.

she cries and lucy holds her and maggie doesn’t know how much time passes until she hears the soft dismount, and it’s alex’s voice that cuts through her tears “maggie,” she breathes “thank gods.” 

and it’s curious because alex takes a seat in the verge, but she makes no move to touch maggie, no move to get closer. it’s not something maggie is immediately aware of. only becoming more conscious of the fact that alex has gone silent, and she wonders first if it’s because she is in the haze of her own emotions. except as she calms, as she feels the last of her tears dry on her cheeks, or in lucy’s shirt, maggie can feel alex’s presence behind her. she can sense the split attention lucy has between them both in the way lucy says “alex, alex look at me.” but maggie hears no movement. 

gathering herself, maggie shifts in lucy’s arms, turning to look at alex. 

alex is sitting on the verge with her knees pulled to her chest and her arms wrapped around her shins. she is sitting with her forehead pressed against her kneecaps and maggie’s heart aches because she can see drying blood on the back of alex’s head, where she was hit. beyond that though, alex is barely breathing. she’s barely moving. caught and lost in her own thoughts. 

“alex,” maggie ventures, “alex i’m okay,” she says, even though it’s not even close to the whole truth, it’s enough of a truth to be able to say those words to alex. 

for a moment alex doesn’t speak, doesn’t respond and maggie says again “you helped save me.” she says. 

alex shakes her head, barely masking a wince “i should have been able to protect you.” she says “not,” she turns, unfurling her arms from around herself and leaning back into her palms “not nearly slice your neck open.” she says, her gaze flickering from maggie’s face to her neck and then away. 

“you didn’t do it on purpose.” maggie tries to counter “you were trying to buy time.” 

“i could have seriously injured you.” 

“but you didn’t.” maggie breathes “you didn’t hurt me.”

alex takes a deep breath and straightens her spine “but they could have.” she says. 

“alex,” lucy says from behind maggie, speaking gently “come here.” 

and it’s the way she says the words that maggie almost feels as if she’s intruding on something, except lucy merely shifts, still keeping close to maggie, but positioning herself for alex to come and sit near them. seconds pass before alex shifts, slowly, wincing and moving gingerly, to sit with lucy, who wraps an arm around her shoulders and presses a single delicate kiss to the top of alex’s head. it’s incredibly intimate and maggie wonders what it says that they’re so open about this part of themselves, even here, even now with two dead men and a criminal in custody currently being dealt with. it’s as if none of that matters and lucy is tracing a finger down alex’s spine “this is not your fault.” she says, firmly “i know you think it is. but it’s not.”

alex shifts and leans further into lucy “maybe it’s not.” she says “but i know whose fault it definitely is.” 

maggie stiffens and there’s a beat before alex says the name, 

“maxwell lord paid to make this happen.” 

*

maggie finds herself sitting in a plush chair by a roaring fire. her arms are wrapped around herself and she’s sitting, hunched forward with a thick blanket over her shoulders. outside thunder rolls across the sky and she knows it’s nothing that can hurt her, but the rest of the recent events sit so fresh in her mind that she cannot help but start and curl in on herself further. the rain had started as they had started a slow ride back to the lane manor. the general had already gone ahead with collins, leaving the bodies of the other two where they lay. they would be dealt with, the general had promised. 

what had consumed her then, on that steady ride back, is the same thought that consumes her now. a name, a person, a shadow of a man she’s never met – maxwell lord. the man who came all those weeks ago to collect maggie, is the same man who hired thugs for her kidnapping. the realisation, or rather the information startled her. it further shattered the sense of peace that maggie had found herself revelling in. less convinced is she now that the general, that sam, was able to do as he promised to. although there was no doubt in her mind that he had tried. it was just apparent that greed was far more persuasive than originally thought. 

in front of her, by the warmth of the fire, alex is sitting cross-legged with her head tipped forward. behind her sits lucy, up on her knees with a rag in one hand and a bowl of warm water sitting next to her. maggie has taken to watching, in silence, the care lucy gives to alex. she had been reluctant, at first, to be the one having their wounds cleaned. except maggie had encouraged and lucy had shared a look with alex that broke no room for argument. so alex had yielded, sinking down to the floor in front of the flames and tipping her head forward. this is where they all are now, in the privacy of lucy’s room with the promise of no further interruptions beyond warm water being brought, by someone maggie recognises as the cook. 

“stop shifting,” lucy chastises lightly, tapping alex’s neck with a finger “it’ll only make this take longer.” 

“you’re poking at my skull.” alex points out “which hurts enough, thanks.” 

“there’s all this dried blood.” lucy says “i need to get rid of it so i can see what the damage is.” her words are punctuated with a soft hand laid on alex’s shoulder. 

it’s a tender touch and maggie can see alex lean into before alex grumbles and folds her arms across her chest “i probably have a bruise.” she says. 

“probably.” lucy agrees “but you’ll be all the better for having the dried blood cleared up and the wound cleaned. you can protest and grumble all you want alex, but you’re still going to sit here and let me take care of you.” 

“i can do this myself.” alex interjects “you should take care of maggie.” 

“i’m fine.” maggie says quickly, although her words are a lie and she knows it. 

fine is a state she is currently far from. her mind is still reeling with the understanding that today she was kidnapped. that today, for a brief time, she was in the clutches of the same breed of men who wanted, yearned even, to do terrible, horrific things to her in the name of punishment and self-reward. collins’ hands have left bruises on her body and his words are twisted into terrible knots, tugging at her, threatening to drown her in memories of violence past. 

“liar.” alex says, dragging maggie from her thoughts.

maggie looks up, looks over at alex, looks over at lucy. she can see the blood in alex’s hair, the bruising and swelling visible even from here. there are scrapes along alex’s knuckles and maggie can only imagine how much alex’s head aches. maggie knows alex got lucky. got lucky that they didn’t shoot her outright, or try and take her with them. then there’s lucy, who must have run through the woods at some pace because there are thin scratches from branches across her arms, her neck. the dust from the dirt track has settled on her. maggie takes in their injuries and knows they’re her fault. she knows without her presence here, without the gold on her head, they would never have been in such danger as they were today. that realisation hits maggie harder than she would like, and it leaves her silenced. 

she’s alive, she’s safe, 

but at what cost?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am continually speechless by the support y'all. honesty so many comments, it makes me so damn happy.

**Author's Note:**

> i have waiting to get to this particular arc nearly since the beginning of this series and i am so excited to finally be able to share it with you. 
> 
> as always, thank you to those who have dropped comments, messages on tumblr or even given the series a kudo, y'all are the best. 
> 
> and from me, thank you to nerdsbianhokie, who has supported and cheered for this series since the beginning. 
> 
> i'm at 4beit on tumblr.


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